


Anniversary

by Jaydee_Faire



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Gen, I really only do this to hurt people, I'm an awful human being, M/M, shut up you love it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-07-11 23:08:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7074358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaydee_Faire/pseuds/Jaydee_Faire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The anniversary of Auguste's death has to come round every year, whether they want it to or not. All they can do is hold onto something and wait for the sun to rise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anniversary

Laurent was quiet. 

He was always quiet, obviously, but today his silence was dark, contemplative. He stood by the window, limned in late sunlight, and stared out at nothing, back very straight, mouth very still.

Damen wasn't a fool, though he often felt that way in the face of Laurent's corkscrew political machinations. He could count days as well as anyone else, and in any case, they'd both known the anniversary was coming. 

The previous week had been a patchwork of explosive arguments, verbal massacres at court, and Damen's view of the ever increasing tension in the lines of Laurent's body. At night, some nights, too few, Laurent would come and stand at the foot of the bed, eyes averted, in a sort of silent apology. Some nights Laurent would relax fractionally in Damen's embrace, piece by piece, and put his forehead against the warm musculature of Damen's chest so that neither of them would have to see his face contort in grief.

Other nights, Laurent would lay underneath him and look up at him and suddenly something in his eyes would go hard, dangerous, not the cool calculations of a clever man but the remnants of a boy promising vengeance, and then he'd be gone, stalking off to somewhere Damen knew better than to follow.

But today was the day and they had survived most of it in a tense, thrumming quiet, assaulted by the stares of courtiers and guards and commoners and everyone, everyone they didn't want to intrude on their pain, this last shared wound between them, forever pulling open as they tried to move forward, never quite healing enough to scar. 

Damen stepped forward, trying to keep his body relaxed, his movements unthreatening, though Laurent hadn't so much as looked at him all day. "Laurent."

Silence. He'd hardly expected more.

Damen took an unsteady breath. Words were not his strongest ally. He'd never be able to say what he needed to in the carefully embroidered way that Laurent made look effortless. Simple, then. "I don't want to leave you here alone tonight."

More silence. It was like talking to a particularly attractive wall. He wondered if he'd prefer Laurent angry, chilly and vindictive, wielding words as skillfully as a rapier and slicing as deep. 

Damen tried again. "If you don't-- want me here. I can find someone else to..." He trailed off. Still nothing; not even a breath of air stirred the golden curls at the back of Laurent's neck. Damen found his hands clenching into fists. He was trying, he was _trying,_ but it was like watching the man drowning, slipping silently into dark waters without so much as a splash or a cry for help. And Damen was standing on the shore, helpless, feet mired in the mud.

No. If Laurent was drowning, Damen had been the one to lead him into waters too deep for him to navigate. 

"I can't undo it," Damen found himself saying quietly. "Even if I could go back and-- I don't know if I could. Choose between-- between him and us. Knowing you. Being with you. Everything that we've done, everything that we-- are. That we've come to be." His next breath came raggedly. "It's selfish. I know you-- he-- I wouldn't be the man that I am, without it. Without him, at the beginning. Without you."

He saw the white column of Laurent's throat move as he swallowed. His shoulders shifted, fractionally, but he didn't turn. 

Damen waited, but was offered nothing more. He took a step back, acutely aware of his confession hanging ugly between them. "I'll go." He'd get Isander. He'd never sent anyone, much less a doe-eyed body slave, into this much danger, but there was little else he could do. He turned to go, heart clenching, sick with his impotence and Laurent's silence.

From somewhere far away, Laurent said, "Wait." 

Damen halted. The silence stretched. He'd rather have had a knife to his throat.

An audible breath. The creak of silk laces against grommets of polished bone. An exhale, slow and steady. "Stay," said Laurent, and for once he seemed as fumbling and uncertain with his words as Damen was. "Please."

Damen did not expect a long declaration of love, and did not get one. Whispered forgivenesses were likewise not something he even thought he wanted, and he trusted Laurent not to offer them. There was no weeping, no heaving sobs, no pale and slender fingers clutching at Damen. He would not be held or petted or reassured. Laurent simply stood by the window, watching the last of the light bleed out of the sky, and Damen stood beside him.

Their silent vigil stretched on until morning.


End file.
